


deceptive redemption

by maraudersourwolf



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Emotional Manipulation, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Kill your darling, M/M, Sad Ending, Unrequited Love, emotional struggle
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-15
Updated: 2018-08-15
Packaged: 2019-06-27 23:00:47
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,686
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15695103
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/maraudersourwolf/pseuds/maraudersourwolf
Summary: Theo isn’t sure when it started or exactly why.He just doesn't want those feelings nesting inside his chest anymore.





	deceptive redemption

**Author's Note:**

> This is loosely based on Supernatural s8 ep17.
> 
> My only excuse was that I've been having this on my system for far too long.  
> And I wanted it out someway.
> 
>  
> 
> There aren't really descriptions of violence or a real major character death,  
> at least not by what I consider gruesome and in need of a warning.  
> But tagging about it just in case didn't kill anyone, right?
> 
> I don't really think this counts as a tearjerked either because it's _so bad_.  
>  My comment box is always open for you to discern.
> 
>  
> 
> Barely beta'd.  
> Really messy.  
> Hope you enjoy.

 

 

Theo isn’t sure when it started or exactly why.

He remembers saying something along the lines of  _ “I love this kid” _ , trying to taunt not only the True Apha out of his righteous ways, but also the little angered beta. But deep deep down, he knew he wasn’t lying. That’s not his thing after all. He bends and twists and makes the truth sound different, but it’s the truth after all, beyond what everyone believes. 

And Theo loves this kid. 

There’s a sizzling energy, a tinge of spice that makes his nose itch and his fingertips twitch and maybe it’s the way those baby blue eyes burn with something that isn’t fear or distrust, but pure and unadulterated rage that wasn’t aimed at him but at anyone who crossed his path. At the world perhaps, where Theo was just another face and it drives him nuts. 

He wants those eyes to look at him in an unique way, so hard that it is enough to make him go astray from his goal. From breaking apart a pack and take a place that isn’t his but that he craves more than anything.

But not as much as Liam’s attention.

Not in that calculated way where every T was crossed and ever I dotted to precision, no.

Liam is power in its purest form and it makes the chimera run wild. Chaotic and out of balance watching the world with eyes that doesn’t feel like his own. Craving a reality that isn’t his to hold.

Theo isn’t sure when it started or exactly why, but he has the blurry and distant memory of a needle and burning pain, of being made this way, of accepting a fate laid down in a silver plate splattered with blood. Of his mind going rounds and rounds into a loop of words and thoughts and baby blue eyes and the firm idea that  _ this is the only way _ .

The  _ for what _ falls silent and the  _ why _ isn’t clear enough, but it settles in his core with the same harsh reality of every choice he has taken in his life. With the flee or fight instinct blooming on his skin. With a scream of  _ live or die _ that dictates each one of his movements.

_ Eat _ or  _ be eaten _ .

And Theo doesn’t have the stability to shove himself under someone else's power, not voluntarily at least. And not completely either. He’s a force to be feared and his own damn allie and enemy. There’s no soft spots under his skin. He can’t let himself be eaten. Not when the reward is just a futile dream that cannot be trusted. 

He’s not a fan of empty numbers or lucky chances. 

He doesn’t have time for kids plays and the nagging feeling that this could be his chance at being normal, at being just like any other teenager following a path that isn’t really clear and fulfill goals that don’t really satisfy him but someone else. Someone selfless and selfish all in one.

It’s been too long since that chance escaped from in between his fingers. Simplicity and normality are foreign languages that he can perfectly reenact, but that is just a faux reality that he feeds to the public. He’s only selfish, that other half of him is lost who knows where, between atrocities and wrong turns.

Theo isn’t sure when it started or exactly why.

He remembers a tinge of fear followed by blinding rage and frustration that bleed into each step that led him to a hole on the ground with surgery tables and nightmares ebbed into the walls, because that was a place he didn’t want to come back to. Feeling out of his depth, giving away a power over himself that no one should ever have. Lay there, open, for someone else to do with him what they wanted.

The echo of his own voice muttering  _ no no no _ like a scratched record that filled the hollow corners of the sewer like a prayer, one that he knew wasn’t going to be heard but still held the empty hope.

Fangs piercing his lips and claws itching his fingertips and things flying around because he can’t find what he wants, why isn’t it there, how is it possible that they didn’t save at least one fucking dose for---

And then, there it is.

Black goo on a vial that’s not bigger than his pinkie finger and that burns panic in the deepest places of his mind. Ones that he thought were locked. Ones that clearly still knew how to move him around like the doll he was and probably will ever be.

His hands tremble with the memories that latch to his soul, but it’s not enough to stop himself from putting the vial in one of the rusty and heavy syringes and guide it towards the tender skin of his throat. The trembling only stops when the needle press on his neck, aimlessly, and he takes a moment to breathe. A step by step that he hopes someday will erase itself floods his mind and Theo repositions the needle over the point where it should be to not cause him any trouble or lethal damage. It soon breaks skin and burns but it’s nothing compared to the fire seeping into his blood once he pushes the goo in. 

When he takes the alien object from inside his body it careless and blinded by both pain and rage. At the beta. At himself. Because he shouldn’t need to do this again, not after years and years of being submitted against his will until he was corrupted and perfect at the eyes of evil. And yet he does, because he’s slowly losing the reins of himself.

His sight soon gets blurry and he lets his back hit one of the walls for stability before dragging himself downwards towards the floor. From this angle, the horror in front of him looks even worse, because he doesn’t feel strong enough to remind himself that he’s alive and breathing and not lost in between decayed surgery tables, another failed project ready to be tossed and forgotten.

It gets harder to make the air get into his lungs, each intake shaking. The panic clings on his ribs and he closes his eyes, because he knows how this works but it doesn’t make it any easier.

Theo isn’t sure when it started or exactly why.

But now he is here again.

With a white floor and white walls welcoming him back. Emptiness, like an old acquaintance. 

Just him and another shadow, facing the bare nothing surrounding them both.

It was his sister, once.

His parents too.

A kid he doesn’t remember at this point really and a girl that cried too much and he always wanted to comfort.

Now it’s Liam, with his bright baby blue eyes and that puppy expression that last only a second before yellow takes over his gaze and his shoulders hunch over at the same time that a roar reverberates on every corner of a room that’s placed nowhere they know and yet feels familiar.

Like a little piece of heaven, but Theo knows it’s far from it. Because nothing living inside his head can be catalogued as heavenly.

The beta charges towards him and Theo only has a moment to determine in which side of the spectrum he is. Just a moment that’s not enough but every alert in his brain go off like neon signs, big and bright, and there’s no doubt about which one he chooses.

And he’s here again.

Shouting.

Growling.

Ripping his ribcage open with each new roar.

Letting tears fall freely down his face until they dried and new ones came to replace the scorching fire of pain and guilt.

It’s a throat first, red spurting around tainting his clothes and his sight and his soul.

Then a chest, ripped open with almost no struggle. 

The sound of bones breaking without pause.

Of blood spilling over the white linoleum that’s under their feets.

White walls tainter red in every deep shade.

Over and over shoving his claws in skin and muscle and tender meat, drawing blood and gore and light out of a body that he wanted more than anything to protect, even if it cost his own safety.

Theo struggle to breathe starts to ease by the time his counting goes beyond twenty-five. He starts to see the pattern, the flaws, the unyielded spots that are easy to manipulate, bend and break. 

It turns to forty when he finally stops crying, his lower lip no longer quivering and his voice hoarse from calling a name that now has lost its appeal.

A couple of numbers more and his hands no longer shake. The overwhelming need to stop shifts into the need to keep going, to prove himself that he can, that this is exactly what he should be doing since the beginning.

Body after body piles up.

All of them with empty baby blue eyes, bloody matted hair and fatal wounds. 

All of them, a statement of something Theo would not let himself experience.

The chimera pretends not to notice how empty he starts to feel inside.

 

*

 

When he wakes up, the room is still the same. With the smell of putrid souls and rotten gore filling up his nose and making his eyes watery. The syringe lays in front of him, the vial shattered by the impact against the floor. Some droplets of goo over the floor just where it landed, but the ground under his feet and body is tainted by so many liquids and fluids that Theo doubts make any difference. 

There’s static echoing on his ears and his neck aches where the needle punctured, probably oozing a bit of black goo as well. His gaze is still blurry too, a bit black around the edges, but that’s part of the experience that soon his healing will shake off as a really bad memory.

Same as the hollow pit inside his heart.

Same as the name of a beta he no longer wants.

 


End file.
